Scarred
by xgirlghost
Summary: Years before Fragility, Elise must come to terms with what happened at Weapon X with the help of Professor X and the X-men. At the same time, Logan has a cruel reminder of what he's lost.
1. Prologue: Growing Pains

[A/N:] This is my version of a weapon x story, but it's also about Elise and Logan getting the close but somewhat dysfunctional relationship seen in Fragility. I'd go on forever, but I don't want to spoil too much. ;)

Rated M for language and because THIS IS A WEAPON X STORY. In later chapters it will have torture and other not good things, so you have been warned.

Thanks to Jeanniebird for betaing and putting up with my musings.

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Chapter 1: "Prologue: Growing Pains"

Logan's POV

2 weeks ago…

"Freeze!" One of the guards yells, pointing his assault rifle at her.

They've got her surrounded. She hasn't moved yet, just let them come to her and lock all the exits.

"Or what?"

All eight of the guards cock their guns at once.

"Ah," She says. "I see."

She jumps from the chair and throws it at one of the guards. They all start shooting, but she ducks and springs up to throw one of them into the line of fire by the barrel of his rifle. Using her momentum, she flings the corpse into another guard while using the butt of the rifle to clobber the guard next to her in the face. He slumps over, knocked out.

Something's wrong. She freezes for a moment and only narrowly dodges enemy fire when she comes back to.

"Do you need to take a break, Elise?" Xavier asks through the intercom.

"No," She growls as a bullet grazes her shoulder. "I'm fine."

The remaining five guards try to surround her again. One of them has to switch out magazines, and she takes that opportunity to grab him and use him as a human shield. She throws him at the guard in front of her and trips another guard, hitting him in the back of the head with his own gun.

The last three are desperate and almost out of bullets. One takes a shot, hitting her stomach. She barely flinches in pain, just keeps coming towards them.

"I am officially done with your bullshit!" She growls.

_Shinkt._

And that's the end of the last three.

She busts a hole through the door and sheathes her claws. She sniffs the air.

"Has anyone else noticed how incredibly inconvenient it is that you can barely smell a damn thing in here?"

I'll admit, it really does get annoying sometimes.

She starts running down the hall and freezes again. Thankfully nothing was there ta shoot her that time. Why's she keep doing that?

Xavier looks a little concerned, too, but he doesn't shut off the danger room just yet.

She eventually finds the last enemy: Juggernaut. Or rather – he busts through a wall and finds her.

She extends her claws again and they charge at each other. The moment before they collide, she freezes. Jughead throws her with his punch and she hits the wall with her head, knocking her out. That part of the wall returns to lookin' like the danger room panels, except dented and sparking.

"End Simulation," Xavier says.

Rogue and I rush into the danger room. Rogue gets to her first.

"Rogue, don't-" I say.

Elise wakes up and Rogue startles her. She tries to push her away, but only succeeds in putting

her bare hand on Rogue's face.

I pull them apart before too much damage is done. Elise passes out again.

"Holy fuck!" Rogue yells with Elise's intonation.

"You okay?"

She stares at me wide-eyed, like she's lookin' at a ghost.

"Oh my God, Logan. You… She…"

"What, Rogue? Spit it out."

"She- she's your sister!"

~ooOoo~

Elise's POV

Tonight…

I'm in the foyer of a beautiful mansion. The floors smell of fresh polish; the rugs are spotless. The banister shines tinted blue under moonlight from the huge window in the front. I hear people sleeping upstairs.

But someone isn't sleeping. I hear a little girl laughing as her mother tries to hush her, but quickly gives in and lets her carry on anyway.

Something draws me to that room. The beautiful and well-crafted wooden stairs groan softly under my foot, as if mourning something, as if lamenting the loss of the forest, their home. With every footstep they wish they could go back.

I slip into the room, a master bedroom. The wealth of the family is obvious from the intricate designs on the bed and sheets. A woman with short, dark curly hair holds the toddler, who has curly hair a few shades lighter, in her lap as she sits in front of an ornate vanity brushing her hair.

My stomach does backflips, the room spins. I know what day it is.

The girl grabs at her mother's gold heart locket. She's interested by the way the etchings shine.

"Do you want to see it?" Her mother asks.

The girl giggles and nods. "Yes mama."

Her mother gingerly unclasps it and puts it around the girl's neck, "Alright, Ellie-Grace."

The girl's named Elizabeth Grace, Elizabeth after her mother. She's called Ellie-Grace, occasionally just Gracie, to avoid confusion.

The girl contents herself with tracing the outer designs with her finger, until she notices the hinge and remembers seeing her mother open it. She tries to do it herself, with no success. She pouts and her mother opens it for her.

"That's you, you were just a tiny thing then," Her mother points to the mass of blankets she's holding in the right hand picture.

The girl smiles and stares mesmerized at the tiny pictures she'd never seen before. How did they get that small, to fit in the heart, she wonders. She quickly recognizes her parents' faces and a boy that looked like James and one much smaller.

She points to the small boy, "Who dat, mama?"

Her mother smiles gently and pulls her closer, "That's your brother, James."

"Jay-jay?"

"Yes, baby."

The girl scrunches her nose in confusion and points to big-James. Rather, the boy she'd thought was James. Her mother's smile instantly drops and she closes the locket, still holding it tenderly.

"He…" she trails off as a tear runs down her face. "He's not here." She pulls her daughter into a tight hug, which the girl playfully tries to squirm out of.

"A pity you weren't born before he- He was _so_ much like James. I hope-" She shudders. "I hope one day you can forgive me."

The girl can't comprehend the deep meaning. The implications are lost on her, as they would be on any toddler.

A stair creaks from the back entrance. The woman freezes then puts the girl down.

"Ellie-Grace, go back there and stay," She points to a small space between the corner of the room and the wardrobe.

The girl defiantly stares back.

"_Now_."

The girl's eyes widen as she scampers off to do what she was told. I follow her and sit next to her in the tiny space. We both jump when we hear the back door open and the gardener walk in with a shotgun. He whispers something to the woman.

The girl and I peek out from behind the wardrobe.

"We're leaving," He says.

"Not tonight. What do you think you're doing, coming in here with that? What if my husband-"

"That excuse fer a man?! The hell'd you marry him for, the money? Sure as hell weren't fer the sex. Ferget him an' let's get outta here."

Suddenly, the husband comes, guided by a candle. He and the gardener yell at each other, and then the gardener clocks him square in the face.

The next words are muffled. The girl is crying and covering her ears. Then, _'BLAM!'_ The shotgun goes off, quickly followed by the sound of blood and brain splattering.

I retch. The girl whines inconsolably for her parents. She's curled up on the floor, shaking.

"He's dead. You killed my papa!" James yells.

The gardener cocks the shotgun.

"No! Thomas don't, he's my son! Please!"

_'BLAM!'_ Another shot goes off, this time, it hits the wardrobe and an unlit oil lamp. Oil soaks into the girl's nightgown.

The gardener yells at James, re-cocking the shotgun. He quickly trails off and drops to the floor.

James yells and cries, and so does the girl.

There's a break in the wordless agony, "Mama, my hands! What's wrong with them?!"

"No… Not you, too! Not again!" Something metal hits the floor. "Get out, you abomination, wretched creature! You _animal_!"

James runs out and the room grows silent but for the woman's quiet sobs. No longer overloaded by noise and chaos, the girl peeks out again.

"Mama?" She sniffles, rubbing her eyes with little fists.

Her mother doesn't hear her. "Oh, Thomas, I'm so sorry," she says as she raises the barrel to her temple.

_'BLAM!'_

The girl screams for her mother, a scream that will never be answered. She runs into the bloodbath. I try to stop her.

"No! Your dress!" I run to her, but it's too late. The candle her father had used had fallen, but not gone out. As the hem of her oil-splattered nightgown brushes over it, it catches fire. She doesn't notice at first. She's still screaming and trying to wake up her parents.

Warm, sticky blood coats the bottoms of her bare feet. She can smell it now, too. The dirty, rusty smell of spilt blood and fresh death. She also smells smoke.

The fire licks up her small legs and I can feel it burning. The girl's wailing is in my head. We go for the door, as if that helps. As if the fire is contained in that room of death. We stumble as the cotton sticks in our melting skin and collapse in the snow. The fire dies, but my screams don't.

Burns splotch my legs and torso. There's a heart-shaped one on my chest from the locket. The agony doesn't fade, but my consciousness does.

"Ellie-Grace?! Oh no. Somebody help!" James wraps me in something and scoops me up as my whimpers fade out.

~xxXxx~

Can't hear myself think through the sound of my own scream. I cling to my pillow and burry my face in it to sop up the tears.


	2. Trust

Chapter 2: "Trust"

I don't even touch the door before I hear '_Come in, the door is open_' in my head. The old door creaks too low for anyone else to hear as I open it. He motions for me to sit down.

I feel so small in the chair. Not really physically, though my feet don't touch the floor, more like defenseless, out of control. It isn't a pleasant feeling.

"Hello, Elise. I see you've changed your mind since this morning?"

You would know.

"Yeah, I guess. Trial-basis-only sorta deal."

He nods and folds his hands. "Fair enough. But if you don't trust me, I can't help you. Do you trust me?"

I squirm in my seat. "Well, you haven't done anything to make me not trust you, so I guess I'm gonna give this a shot."

"That's a start. Now," he wheels his chair around to my side of his desk and loosens up. "Is there anything specific you'd like to discuss?"

I shrug, "You're the expert, what _should_ we talk about?"

"What have your nightmares been about these past few days?"

I look down. "Various things, but mostly… you know."

"I'm afraid I don't."

"Oh, come on! Don't play dumb with me! You read minds, isn't it obvious?"

Without letting his volume or tone sound anything other than professional, he chews me out, "Let us get this clear, for I fear you may never truly trust me if we do not: Just because I _can_ read my students' minds does not mean that I _do_. I expend every effort to assure as much privacy as possible for everyone as I can. Even if I inevitably hear some occasional mental chatter, I do not go actively looking through peoples' minds without their knowledge and permission."

I recoil and blush, "Sorry. I was out of line."

He smiles gently, "Apology accepted. Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

"Uh, I meant the um, the getting captured and stuff," I mumble.

"I suppose we should start from the beginning, how did you get captured?"

I think for a moment, and it all comes back. Clear as day.

_"No, Dr. Smith, look what you've done! If the vector virus infects the rat now it will surely kill it," I hiss. Damn newbie never listens unless you threaten to rip his head off. Which I have, among other things. _

Come to think of it, I really was a bitch back then.

"I had this job as a geneticist, head of a special project. We were trying to cure genetic diseases- or so I was told. I wanted to help people, but I really ended up hating that job. And everyone in it."

In my defense, I'd been having a REALLY shitty decade. Couldn't stomach going to war again. Besides, after three major wars I figured I earned the right to sit one out. James still went, though. I spent years alone; even went to college near the beginning. But I was stupid and almost got myself thrown in jail for decades for something I didn't mean to do.

Yeah, so the police kinda don't like finding illegal fireworks and other pyrotechnics in your trunk when you have to go to a government building.

Then, this government guy came along and told me he could make all the charges disappear if I joined his team. Met up with Logan there, apparently he got roped in, too. Team X wasn't anywhere near what he sold it to us as. Bradley and Wraith were okay, but this other feral Victor was a complete psychopath, and Wade kept hitting on me. Maverick wasn't particularly amused when I stabbed Wade with his own kantana. Said it was counter-whatever to team cohesiveness or something. I honestly couldn't hear over Vic laughing.

Even though some of the team members were hard to live with, I was the happiest I'd been in years. However, once the team stopped trying to kill each other every hour our government liaison started sending us on 'more important' missions. The adrenaline rushes were fun, I'll never deny that. It was fun to let loose and let the animal play. But then, James and I had a bit of a falling out, you could call it. I left, don't know how long he stayed on.

"See, Ja- um, Logan and I had previously been part of this special ops team called Team X. It was the best job and some of the best friends ever until Logan and I really couldn't see eye to eye on something. I left."

_James decided I was too much of a girl to do the dirty work of the team or some shit, that I shouldn't try to be like him. Well fuck him! So I left and I got this job and I hate it I hate all my coworkers and my underlings and I hate how everything smells so burning clean and-_

_"Graaagh!" I slam my fist into the elevator wall and the minor pain brings me back to reality. Tears burn in my eyes._

_Weak. Stupid girl._

"So yeah, I hated my job. But my boss practically let me get away with murder – not literally, of course." Not that I tested that, anyway. "So I stayed."

_I pull myself together as the elevator dings. It's not my floor. The doors open and my boss comes in. I guess I like the guy. He lets me get away with anything. He even laughed about it when I carried around a lunchbox marked 'human head' and some of my coworkers complained._

_"Hello, Miss Howlett. How is your project coming along?"_

_"Very well. We've been able to use the vector viruses to force fur color mutations in rats so far. I believe if we can engineer the gene for it, we will soon be able to force any mutation we wish."_

_"Are you ready for human trials, then?"_

_"No. While in theory the procedure would work, I don't believe we know enough about the human genome yet to be safe. If we put one wrong base in the virus or made it attach to the wrong loci, it could cause a horrible mutation, even death." I don't know why anyone would volunteer for that sort of procedure anyway. The side effects can be a real bitch even IF the procedure ends up successful. 'If' because currently it's more of an art than a science._

_But think of all the genetic disorders this could cure! It could eradicate Huntington's and other diseases before the person even gets symptoms. Doesn't that make all the potential failure worth it? _

_Maybe._

_He nods apathetically, "Very well. I will put more geneticists on the project." The elevator stops at my floor; I exit. _

_The rest of the day goes by in a zero-fucks-were-given blur. More tests, more yelling at the underlings, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. _

_The oak leaves crunch under my feet and release a sweet scent as I walk out to my car. They're the only beautiful things in the complex. Everything else is cold, lifeless metal and plastic. I'd rather stay away from such beauty, I think to myself as I turn the ignition key. It reminds me too much of everything I miss._

"I still hid what I am from everyone, even – especially- my boss. Call it instinct, I guess. Not long after I'd decided to do that, mutants became science's next big thing. There wasn't so much fear in my lab, more like dark curiosity."

_I'm different, I know. I've always been different. Things are changing, though. They call people like me mutants now, in response to the discovery that special abilities like mine are caused by a mutated gene, an X-gene, they call it._

"I hated the word 'mutant'. Whenever one was discussed in the lab, it was like they were discussing a new animal or an alien. Something to dissect. Something less than human."

_Mutant: Such a revolting word. My coworkers say how much they wish they could try to map the genome of one, see how different it is from that of a human. Funny, years ago they were saying the exact same thing about the damn rats._

_I slam the door to my small, one bedroom, house and scream, "Is that all I am to you?!"_

_Throwing my things in the nearest corner, I light up my first one of the night. It'll take plenty more, with my current agitation and healing power, to mellow me out. I exhale a puff of smoke and sigh._

_"Nothing but a fucking rat."_

"I had no friends, didn't talk to a single person outside of work. I had experimented with all sorts of things before; when you have a healing factor you really don't worry too much about the health consequences of anything. Anyway, eventually I found that the only way I could get any sleep most nights was to use massive amounts of whatever placating drug I could get my hands on."

I was pitiful.


	3. Time's Up

I just realized I hadn't posted this yet. Whoops!

Thanks, as always, to Jeanniebird for betaing.

Happy Reading! Hopefully I can stick to a better posting schedule.

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Chapter 3: "Time's up"

"The night before I got captured, I had a bad nightmare."

Xavier nods. "Do you remember what it was about?"

I shift in my seat. "Uh… Let's talk about something else."

_I wake up in a cold sweat, still screaming just quiet enough not to blow my own eardrums out. My throat starts hurting and I crumple into a ball of tears._

_"Jean-Louis, my baby" I think aloud. Thirty years later, and sound of his name still sends shivers down my spine. I clench my eyes against the flashback that takes over me._

_Something was wrong, I'd known it. Not long after he turned twelve, my little adopted baby started getting horribly ill, and no matter what I did, I could not heal him. He was pale, lethargic; he'd get terrible headaches and muscle spasms. I didn't know what to do. I brought him to a doctor and he had no idea what was wrong, but prescribed something anyway and recommended he sit out in the sun more. _

_Like any mother, I followed the doctor's orders to the punctuation. The medicine was awful-smelling and probably tasted no better, but I got Jean-Louis to take it all the same. Within a day, he was starting to feel better. Well enough, in fact, that I trusted him to be safe by himself while I went out to the market to buy food. I was only gone for maybe an hour or two._

_When I came home, Jean-Louis was violently ill, so much worse than before. I ran to where he had fallen in the grass and tried desperately to help him._

_"C'est bien, tout sera bien," I chant, trying to calm us both. I tried to heal him, thinking maybe the thing that had been keeping him from getting this bad was how I had been very frequently using my healing power on him. Maybe this would make him better, maybe-_

_A flash of blinding light and scorching heat engulfed his body, forcing me to look away for a moment. He screamed for help but I could do nothing but sit just as helpless as he. The light cut off and his screams faded out. There wasn't a mark on him, yet his life had gone out of him like the light. I cradled him in my arms and sobbed straight into the next morning._

He's here to help, idiot.

I sigh. "It was about my son."

"I didn't know you had a son."

'Had' is the important word here.

"In World War II, I had snuck into a Canadian Regiment. I was stationed in France and everything was going fine- well, as good as things can go in a war. One day, without warning, our camp and the town next to it were blown to bits. As soon as I was healed enough to stand, I started looking for survivors. My entire platoon was dead. Besides me, there was only one survivor; a frail, seven-year-old boy named Jean-Louis. He was badly hurt when I found him, so I scooped him up and put my dog tags in one of my friend's pockets before disappearing. I healed him, got a new alias, and cared for him as my own."

I hear a tear drop splash on my lap. "But, he was a mutant. When he hit puberty, his powers manifested. When they manifested, they killed him. I- I couldn't save him."

He puts a hand on my shoulder, "I'm sorry, Elise."

"Do you want a break for now?" He hands me some tissues.

I shake my head and the tears from my eyes, "Well anyway, after the nightmare I was panicky and couldn't sleep, so I drugged myself again."

_"Why?" I ask everything and nothing at once. Like always, I don't get an answer. _

_ I sniffle and wipe the disgusting mixture of snot and tears on my sheet, in want of a tissue. Whatever. Needed to change 'em anyway. I slide off the bed and strip the sheets, throwing them into the mountain of unwashed clothes. Tomorrow, I promise myself for the hundredth time. Just not now. Actually, it would probably be in my best interest to pay a cleaner to wash everything. My job pays pretty damn well and it ain't like I ever use much of it. _

_Well, I'll deal with that tomorrow._

_I shuffle over to the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. Unlike the people on television, I don't have any cough syrups or bandages here. I only have sleeping pills, heavy tranquilizers, a bottle of moonshine so potent it feels like you're swallowing liquid fire, and a few other things not found in your average pharmacy. I take a few pills out of each bottle and swallow them with a few gulps of the moonshine. Soon, my healing power starts to pick a fight with the deadly cocktail and I'm bombarded with the usual feelings of nausea and dizziness. _

_Before it's too late, I lie back down on my now bare bed. The nausea starts to fade, proving the drugs have overcome my natural defenses. I feel James gently sweep away the matted auburn curls from my face. _

_He whispers, "It's alright, everything will be alright," as the thick darkness sucks me into a dreamless oblivion._

"I was so heavily drugged, in fact, that I woke up an hour late and had to rush to get to work. I smelled _someone_ there but wasn't sure who it was, only that it was bad."

Remember, it ain't paranoia if someone really _is_ out to get you.

_At seven a.m., I wake up to another monotonous day. Only problem: I was supposed to wake up an hour ago. I rush to take my shower and brush out my hair. I don't bother drying it, instead wrapping it in a bun and shoving bobby pins in it to make it stay. I get dressed in a clean black blouse and tan slacks. For breakfast I have cold leftover lo-mien and pork fried rice, brush my teeth, and head out the door._

_I barely make it on time, though I'm sure I wouldn't get in any trouble if I was late. I go through the normal security checkpoint, but I smell something off._

_"Are we having any visitors today, Shelby?" I ask the lady at the security desk._

_"Yes, actually. Just came in not too long before you." After making sure the area was clear, she leans in closer and whispers, "I think they're inspectors from the grant agencies. Be careful: I know your boss may see your antics as endearing now, but I wouldn't blame him if he fired you on the spot for screwing today up."_

_"I'll keep that in mind," I chuckle nonchalantly. I try to hide my budding nervousness. I smell three unfamiliar scents, one familiar that I can't seem to put a face to, and guns. Grant inspectors aren't usually packing heat, are they?_

_"You better. I'd hate to have to find a new lunch buddy," She says as I leave._

_I notice the scents don't go straight to my work area. Small relief, I suppose. Maybe I'm just paranoid. They can't be after me, can they? I mean, I know I recognize one of the scents from somewhere, but that doesn't mean anything, right? I've run into a lot of people in my day. I coulda passed the guy on the street for all I know._

"After some snooping around, I found out it was Team X looking for me. And that's when I really started panicking."

"I thought they were your friends."

"Well, some of them. But when I left, I made sure they all remembered me." I actually manage to crack a smile at that one.

"How did you accomplish that, if I may ask?"

I manage to crack a smile, "pepper spray bombs in the air ducts of HQ."

Told some friends ahead of time. Not Logan though, we'd just argued and I was still pissed.

_Stop panicking. Think._

_Think, yeah, that's it. So, do I do business as usual or do I play spy like a child to try to figure out who these new people are? Something tells me screwing around trying to give a rat the ability to tap dance or whatever is entirely less important than figuring out who these strangers are. They had guns after all. I know carrying around your favorite firearm is a normal custom in some places, but not around here. I doubt most people around here even know which way to hold a gun. There's something really fucked up going on here and dammit if I won't figure out what it is._

_I wander through the hallways like any other day, except now I have a purpose. I sniff the hall every so often to figure out where the scent is leading me while simultaneously trying to put a face to a scent for that annoyingly familiar one. The only thing the scent conjures up so far is the phrase 'kiss ass'. At least it's something, though. _

_The hallways are empty, very unusual for this place. Usually someone is out on a coffee run or a smoke break or sending documents to another department. Eerie. Real eerie. I take another deep sniff of the air._

_Wait, Stupid! Team X. Maverick. That's who! His guns-_

I can feel my heart starting to race parallel to the memory. Not just from the fear of that moment, but also from embarrassment for what's coming up.

"Then, I escaped my job. I don't ever think I'd been that afraid of anything before."

_They're here! What does he want? Not me. I may be able to heal and all, but I'm not nearly as powerful as any of the others. Even James has his claws!_

_I hold my breath and peek around the corner._

_"Now, can any of you tell us where this woman is currently?" Maverick asks._

_I gasp audibly and duck back around the corner when I see the picture he's holding up. It's a picture of James and I while we were on Team X._

_"Why?" I whisper. Answer me this time, dammit!_

_Run._

_I instinctively jerk my head to the sound of footsteps. They're coming. _

_The animal claws around inside me, gnashing in wait for a fight, a bloodbath. I can't win, though. There's no way._

_Flee._

_Adrenaline saturates my blood as I throw my lab coat off and run. My steps are near-silent, but my heart beats like machine-gun fire. I hope I'm the only one who can hear it. As stupid as it sounds to run for the front exit, it's the closest way to my car. Besides, I can't detect any of their scents, at least not recent ones._

_I stop at the security desk and get Shelby's attention, "Anyone asks, I never showed up. You have no idea why or when I'll be back."_

_"What?" She asks, looking at me like I have three heads._

_"I can't explain now, but if I don't get out now and you destroy my employee records and timecard, I'll never be able to," I say. _

_She shakes her head in disbelief at first, but then nods. _

_"Alright. Promise you'll tell me what's going on later, Elizabeth."_

_I grab her hand and hold it to my face, "You're an angel." I look up, let go, and run for the exit. _

_By the time I get home, I'm bawling and gasping for breath. Everything feels numb. I fumble with the key, dropping it four times before I finally unlock my door. With a flick of my hand, I lock the deadbolt behind me and slide down my door and onto the floor. _

"Even though I knew they were probably still hot on my trail, I was completely useless from panic by the time I got home and had to relax. I figured I was better off loopy and stoned than paralyzed from fear. Hindsight 20/20, fear would have been better because then I could probably muster some fighting or something. As it was, I ended up a sitting duck when they came for me."

_My heart's pounding in my head like a sledgehammer as I continue to gasp for breath. I feel faint-_

_I'm panicking. I need to stop. I need something. Something to calm me down. Anything. I'm no good blubbering. _

_I start dragging myself to the bathroom medicine cabinet. The world feels like it's crushing in on me and I got steel bands wrapped like a boa around my rib cage. I make it, barely. I take some a handful of tranquilizers. My healing power puts up a huge fight, exacerbated by all the adrenaline, but two more doses does the trick._

_"Ev'ything's fine, silly. Stop bein' s'scared. Ol' Mav-dick can't find ya. He's a f'ckin' dumbass," I laugh. I don't even know why I'm laughing but it doesn't matter. Everything's funny. There's a sound. A knock. Wonder what that is. There it is again!_

_Oh yeah, it's the door. I giggle and stumble and sway to the door. I feel so free, like a bird in the skyyyy. Not stressed at all. What was I stressed about?_

_The scent at the door is familiar. A friend has come to play!_

"Like the idiot junkie I was, when he knocked, I opened the door."

_Dunno who I was expecting, but Victor sure wasn't it. _

_"Man, this is trippy. All'a you're too mucha dumbasses ta find me," I wave my hand at him. "Begone figment!" _

_He looks at me funny. He's one to judge, there's two of him now! _

_They growl at me, "Frail, I was lookin' forward ta havin' ya fight back, but ya had ta go an' ruin it for me." He turns into one person and comes into focus before stepping towards me. He towers over me like Goliath. _

"God, I was so out of it. When Sabretooth was at the door, I thought I was hallucinating him being there. I actually told him to 'Shoo, kitty'."

"And had you not been impaired, you would have handled it differently?" he asks.

"Nah. I prob'ly still woulda said it, I just woulda had the sense to duck when he went for my throat."

_I don't like it, not at all. Can't be hurt by a hallucination, right? Still, I don't want him here._

_"Shoo, kitty. Go 'way. Y'ain't real!"_

_He moves like a flash and suddenly I feel pain shooting through the skin on my neck. Pain is real. If nothing else is real, pain is real. _

_"Think again, frail," His bass laugh and hot breath assault my face and ears. _

"Thankfully, the surge of adrenaline kick-started my healing factor and probably saved me."

_This is real. I'm in danger. I need to break free! I thrash against his grip. My head is clearing but vision turning red. I growl loudly and try to kick him. I can't connect, he's holding me too far away!_

_"There ya are! I was wonderin' when you'd snap out of it. I get ta have my fun after all." He lets loose a wide, toothy grin and tightens his grip on my throat._

_"Let go of me!" I yell through my teeth. Shoulda thought ahead about that, though, 'cos now I'm gasping for breath I can't get._

_Creed throws me to the ground and stands over me. A low growl rumbles in his chest. I look up, teeth barred. _

_"What do you want with me?" I ask._

"Creed was just glad he had a toy." I shudder.

Xavier arches a questioning eyebrow, but says nothing.

_"Not me, my boss. If it were up ta me I wouldn'ta wasted the time tracking your scrawny ass. However, my boss didn't specify how many pieces he wanted ya in."_

_There's that grin again. By his scent I can only imagine what it means, and it ain't pretty. _

_I try to buy time to heal and think up a plan, "Okay. What are you going to do with me?" _

_"First, I'm gonna chase you," He says. He then goes to describe in vivid detail the horrid, slasher-worthy things he wants to do to me. I can only imagine how many others he's done that to, and it makes me sick. But the good thing is, I feel normal again. I can run. If I'm lucky, I can outrun him._

_"Well, you want a chase. Give me a head start to make it more interesting."_

_"Oi, little Lizzy, ya ain't in any position ta be makin' demands," He says and kicks me hard in the side. My rib cracks and I howl in pain. Victor just stands over me growling._

_"Run, wench."_

_I snarl at him and nurse my side._

_"Do ya want me ta break another one? RUN!" He roars. I don't wait to be told again. I scramble to my feet and run towards the back exit, panting and coughing from my healing injury. One of my shoes comes off while I run, so I throw the other off. _

_I could run deep into the nearby forest, or try my luck to get to the highway. Either way, I have to escape. My car's closer to Creed than me, and in the opposite direction. Doesn't matter, I can hear him closing in. Gotta. Run. Faster! _

_One wrong step and pain shoots through my ankle and up my calf. I fall. Thorns lodge in my arms. A long shadow falls over me and I hear his laugh again._

_"You can do better than that." He picks me up roughly, but with the ease one would pick up a pillow, and tosses me a few feet from where I'd fallen. I do my best to keep the wince inside me. _

_"Try again, Lizzy."_

_I can barely move my foot, much less run. Can't show fear; won't give him that pleasure. My only chance is to let go of my humanity. My vision turns red and I rise to a fighting crouch and the animal roars in delight._

_Injured. Hopeless. Pitiful._

_He roars in response and swings at me. I duck and use a nearby stick to stab him. It doesn't go too deep so I duck his next blows and slam it deeper into his entrails with a rock. _

_Lucky shot._

_He slashes my face with his claws, just missing my eye. He kicks me in the head and I fall back, dazed. The next thing I register is the pain of him shoving a stick through my shoulder and more bones cracking._

_Agony! Stop, please!_

_He stomps on my lower legs, crunching bones as I scream. I can't hold it back anymore. The animal tries to lash out but before long I'm nothing more than a barely-conscious and bloody ragdoll. In my mind I beg for the darkness to take over and let me feel nothing._

_Weak. Better off dead._

_I cough up the blood that's drowning me. Victor watches and laughs. The sound makes the animal livid but I can't do anything about it. Victor continues to watch as I heal, once I'm well enough to try to get up, I do. White-hot agony shoots up my half-healed legs and claws dig into my neck, pushing me down again._

By the time I get to that part of the memory, I'm feeling woozy, nauseous. "So… So he beat me up and dragged me to, to _there_. Can we be done for now?"

"If you wish. Whenever you're ready, my door is open."

I nod and rush to the nearest bathroom. It's been a while since I've eaten, but acid and mucous still manage to make an appearance. I'm shaking, weak. My sweaty hands lose grip on the toilet seat and I curl up on the floor.

_"Not so fast, frail. I'm s'posed ta have ya back soon." He takes out a huge syringe from his coat. I can't hide my terror. Smelling my feelings, he grins evilly at me._

_"Ain't gonna kill ya, but yer gonna wish I did."_

_The silver needle slides painfully into my arm and the darkness finally greets me._

I do, dammit. I do!

Sobbing makes it hard to breathe. I hear the knocks at the door, but I ignore it this time.


	4. The Worst is Yet to Come

Thanks to my beta Jeanniebird, as always. :)

I know I'm going to sound like I'm begging (and maybe I am) but please review. Even if it's just a short one. Even if you hate it, tell me.

Thanks, and happy reading!

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Chapter 4: "The worst is yet to come"

I clean myself up some before leaving the bathroom. I startle when I see John and Logan waiting for me. They look so concerned; I still look a wreck.

Ain't got nothing to say, so I pretend I didn't see them, for what good that does against my telepathic boyfriend and hyper-observant feral brother.

The latter puts a hand on my shoulder. His expression says he knows, my glare says he doesn't. How much does he know, really? A few flashes of nightmares and an old alias. He doesn't know me. He barely knows himself.

They took my beautiful curls, my dignity, and my restful nights. But worse than all that, they took something much more precious.

They took my James.

There're slivers of him in there still, little glimmers of hope James survived. But my hope is shattered with every paranoid fit, every violent outburst. Every time he looks at me with pity in his eyes like I'm just another student with issues.

_Elise, we just want to help._

"No," I snap, pushing past them. "Not right now. I've had enough 'help' to last me a good long while."

~ooOoo~

I sit on my bed and stare at an empty portion of the wall. I'd probably get yelled at if I started throwing knives at a wall-target. I twirl one of my favorite blades through my fingers.

I want to maim something. I want to taste fresh blood on the air. I feel a rumble growing in my chest. The animal approves.

Almost at once, I feel the presence of four nosy mind-readers in my head.

_GET OUT!_ I growl and try to force them out. One quickly shies away, the other three are undeterred.

You guys want in? Fine. Be my guest.

I open the flood gates and drown them with vague, twisted memories of horror and pain. All the sensations, all the evil, that's made its home in my head. I hear three mental 'gasps' and they all go away.

I warned you.

A few minutes later, I hear a rap on the door.

"If ya ain't selling cookies, go away!" I yell.

"Do ruffled potato chips count?" John asks from outside the door. "I know they're your favorite."

My cheeks warm from blushing, "Uh, yeah. That's fine, thanks."

He opens the door. His face is pale as death.

Dammit! He musta been one of the people who I lashed out at.

"Sorry," I choke, wide-eyed.

"My bad, really. Here," he sits down on the bed with me and gives me the peace offering of potato chips. I open the bag and nibble at one.

"I want to understand your pain," He says suddenly.

"Trust me on this, you don't. _I_'d rather you didn't understand."

I wish no one had to.

His tone is final, full of resolve, "I do. It would mean you weren't alone in this."

_Do you trust me?_

"Of course I- Alright, but I warned ya."

You have the best of intentions, dear, but you know what they say about the road to Hell. It might be nice to have someone who really understands, but I'm afraid you'll regret this.

He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear as I lay my head in his lap.

"I won't regret it as long as it helps you be happy. Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

I close my eyes and immediately sense his presence all through my mind. He hasn't yet mastered the art of being discreet yet, so I can feel as he flips through memories like pages in a book. John quickly reaches the points I summarized for Xavier. I feel him cringe as he experiences it all as a full-sensory, emotional horror flick.

He's doing better than I thought he would, but that isn't necessarily a good thing because soon enough, he delves into some of the darkest parts. The ones that reside in a black pit of terror.

_I wake up in the back of a truck, still in pain from my healing bones. An armed guard is on either side of me, with Creed's overpowering figure taking up the other side of the truck. Not that it would really matter much for security, but I wish there were more guards._

_He crosses his massive arms and grins. A fang glints in the darkness. He knows as well as I do that the second he wants to, he can make good on the promise of horrors he described._

_And there's nothing that the rent-a-cops or I could do about it. Nothing._

_I try to calm down, slow my breathing. I never take my eyes off him and flinch every time he moves. _

_His bass laugh is mixed with a rumbling purr. He's thoroughly enjoying having me vulnerable as an injured kitten._

_No. I won't let him have the pleasure of it. I pointedly stare at one of the walls and try to think of other things. He can't break me. I won't let him._

_A few minutes later, I smell he's starting to get annoyed, which doesn't help my case any. It's a fine line I'm walking. On one hand, I start freaking out and he'll be tempted to give me a reason to panic, on the other, if I get too defiant it'll really piss him off and he'll just do what he wants anyway._

_I'm in deep shit. Really deep shit. _

_He gets up and shoves one of the guards aside before sitting next to me._

_Ohshitohshitohshit._

_If he makes a move I'll take the guard next to me's gun and shoot myself in the head. Shooting him won't stop him but it'll make him angry. Maybe I'll be out for long enough. Maybe I won't remember any of it. Maybe I'll wake up at least mostly healed._

_I feel his hot, rancid breath on my ear and I gasp. I'm getting dizzier by the second. My heart's pounding in my throat._

_"Dried blood and fear smell good on you, Lizzy."_

_The van stops, as it has many times before. I try to discreetly feel for the gun. Like lighting, he snatches my wrist in an iron grip. I can't help but cry out when bones grind and crack. He snarls and roars, barred teeth slick with sticky saliva._

_"I told ya you were gonna wish I killed ya, frail, but you didn't-"_

_He's cut off by the clang of doors and more than a dozen armed guards pointing their assault rifles at him. Creed growls and lets me go long enough for the two guards from the van to get me outta there._

_A decorated officer, general, I think, steps forward, "You are relieved, Sabretooth."_

_He growls then turns to me with a sick grin, "'Till next time Lizzy," and stalks off._

_I fall to my knees in the snow and drag myself up again to hug the officer, crying and laughing into his uniform. "T-thank you, thank you so much."_

_He brushes me aside and I fall harshly on painful, half-healed bones and tissue._

_"Somebody, take it away."_


	5. A Little Competition Never Hurt

Thanks to my betas Jeanniebird and The Replicator for helping make this possible.

I really do like reviews. Even if it's a critical one, I still want to hear from you guys. I live off of feedback.

Happy Reading!

* * *

Chapter 5: "A little competition never hurt"

Next thing I realize, John's smothering me in a hug.

"Th-that was..." he trails off and hugs me tighter, resting his chin on my head.

Sadly, I'd be lying if I told him that was the worst of it.

And what about Ja-Logan? He's had some amnesia before after really bad things happened, but never like this. What horrible things could those monsters have possibly done to make him forget _everything_?

The thought makes me queasy again. Even if he has the flashes of memories in nightmares, he can't remember all of it. Part of me envies him for that.

I squirm a little to look up at him. "John, if I asked nicely, would you wipe my memory?"

For a moment, he doesn't answer at all. Then, definitively, he says "No."

"Why not?"

"Love, I'm still learning the basics. I'd hurt you."

"And if I were to ask when you had more training?"

"I'd still say no."

"How come?"

He sighs, "The mind is more complex than the highest-power supercomputer. Besides the possibility of outright error, altering or erasing memories at all could change you. You could be a completely different person since it's the specific combination of memories that makes a person."

"Would you not like me if I were different?"

"I'd still love you. But if you're intent on tearing up your mind, I'm not going to help you. I won't ever hurt you. Not even if you ask me."

What if I ask someone else?

John doesn't even try to stop me when I get up.

"Does the apathy imply consent?"

"Not at all. I just know he won't do it either."

"Then why aren't you stopping me from asking?"

He raises an eyebrow, "Because I know you well enough to know you won't give up until you get to find out first-hand."

~ooOoo~

Dammit. He was right. Xavier seems to be under the impression this means we need to talk again.

"Why is it you want me to erase your memories?"

I scrunch my eyebrows and stare him down, "I got my reasons."

He folds his hands and leans back in his wheelchair, "An example of which would be..?"

Unable to come up with a good enough reason without sounding whiny, I just glare at him.

"I see. Well, as it is apparent you do not wish to speak with me presently, I have another idea."

I loosen up a little, curiosity betraying me, and quirk an eyebrow, "And that is?"

"I believe it would be beneficial if you had a talk – a little heart-to-heart if you will- with Logan."

I jolt out of my chair, "WHAT?! What good's that gonna do?! We have nothing in common! Besides, your resident 'lone wolf' has never been one for 'heart-to-hearts' either."

"As for similarities: genetics, for one."

"Like that means anything," I snap. "If this is your way to make me drop the issue, fine, I'll drop it. But I ain't gonna sing kumbaya with the guy."

"You have no _idea_ how similar you are," He rubs his temples. "If you had a deep, meaningful conversation with him, perhaps you would see that."

I sit back down and look him in the eyes. "So, lemme get this straight: if I have one _deep, meaningful_ discussion of the weather with him you ain't gonna keep pushing the issue?"

"At that point, I doubt prodding of that sort will be necessary."

I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow, "That wasn't a 'yes'."

"I know," he replies calmly.

"_Fine_," I grumble and leave.

I take a good whiff of the hallway air and go to find Logan.

He's in his room. I stare at the door for some time before kicking it and yelling "Hey Logan, if Xavier asks, you an' I had a talk and now understand each other or some shit. Feel free to make up the details." He doesn't answer right away, so I bang on the door again, "I know you're in there, dammit!"

The door swings open. "Do you have an off switch?" He growls.

His response startles me. For as long as I've been here, he hasn't snapped at me.

Without thinking, I spit back a snarky comeback, "Why yes, actually. It's called 'do what I ask and I'll leave you alone'."

He glares at me and I stand my ground.

"What exactly did Chuck want you to do?"

"Talk. With you."

"Well you've done that. Happy?"

I feel a sudden crushing sensation in my chest. Shock, partially, but not all. Something more painful.

"No," I say quietly, looking down.

He sighs and gestures for me to come in. I smell guilt on him as I brush past.

His whole room smells more emotional than a teenage girl. Don't know how he can stand it, really. The pungent scents of fear and rage make me tense up. As I sift deeper through the invisible fog, I find other scents. Although more delicate emotions like love and loyalty are almost overpowered by the negative ones, they're still very much there.

I relax a bit and sit down, feeling curious, hopeful and a little shameful myself. Maybe James is still there, after all, under all this other stuff.

I sense fresh agitation filling the air. What'd I do?!

Logan sits across the room from me and raises an eyebrow. Buried beneath the agitation, I smell curiosity.

"So," he starts. "You're my sister."

"Yeah," I look down and fidget with the hairband on my wrist.

He nods, exhales.

Not to be cliché, but you could cut the tension in the room with a knife – or a _claw_. I look at mine. Metal, _adamantium_ to be exact, unnatural and permanently bonded. No, not bonded. Permanent but not bonded. Something else.

Before I realize what I'm doing, I shudder and put my hand back down.

Logan shifts in his seat. His scent flips to concern, but his body language stays firmly reserved.

"Well, um, long time no see?" I say to break the silence.

"Been at least 17 years."

I nod, "Longer."

I see the next question in his eyes before he asks it, "How much longer?"

"'Bout 23 ta 25 years, that's how long it'd been since we saw each other."

His eyes widen and he raises his eyebrows, "So, how old are you?"

I chose my words carefully. It's a big enough shock to find out he has a sister he has no memory of, finding out he's pretty much as old as dirt prob'ly won't help anything, "About eight years your junior, give or take."

Shoulda just kept my mouth shut. I can smell anger wafting off him. Betrayal, too.

"Hey, you're moodier than _I_ am, and that's sayin' something. What gives?"

"You're hiding something."

"Of course I am. Hasn't anyone ever told you never to ask a woman her age?"

He doesn't answer, just narrows his eyes.

"Would you like to know anything else, then? Otherwise I'm leaving."

He growls, "Yeah, no lies this time."

"I didn't lie," I hiss.

"Good as!"

The anger in the room swirls around us; fills our lungs and brains. The window and door are closed, so the small space becomes an emotion pressure cooker. Ain't long before something's bound to explode.

I growl back, "That's real nice, won't even trust your own damn sister. Didn't think anyone could be _that_ paranoid! I was trying to help you, dumbass!"

"And how the hell does- Kitty!"

Out of nowhere, a girl appears through the floor. I yelp and jump back.

"Something wrong? I could hear you guys downstairs," she asks, looking at us both. She's holding herself up halfway through the floor.

I brush myself off and glare at Logan, "No. We're done now," and storm off.

~ooOoo~

Blood marks the punching bag from where my knuckles crack and heal over. With a swift kick, the bag flies off the ceiling and the holograms fade.

"Reload simulation," I say.

"Loading Static-Training Simulation 0-073," replies the danger room.

As soon as it's loaded, I've changed my mind.

"On second thought, load General Training Simulation 5-102."

"Access denied, insufficient clearance," The too-cheery robo-lady voice says.

"The hell do you mean, insufficient clearance?!"

"Instructor override," a familiar gruff voice says over the intercom.

"Override accepted. Loading General Training Simulation 5-102"

I spin on my heel to see Logan in the control room, "What do you want?"

"Ya need ta blow off steam, I can understand that."

Wait. He's trying to apologize for earlier, isn't he?

"Uh… thanks," I glance at him. "Hey, think we could save the kumbaya 'til after I'm done this? Don't wanna get distracted like last time." I motion to the area of the danger room wall, almost covered by holograms, that has a dent in it shape like the back of my head. Hasn't gotten fixed yet.

May just be the head trauma, but I still kinda think that's impressive.

"Yeah," He says, and the mission starts.

~ooOoo~

I pant and try to slow my breathing. Can't remember when I was last able to exhaust myself. I survey the area, and it's nothing short of carnage. Holographic bodies're strewn everywhere.

Think I mighta overdid it.

The civilians are safe, and the red button 's within arm's reach, finally. I tap it, and the scene starts to fade away.

"Mission complete," the room says. "Time: 14 minutes, 52 seconds. Score: 23,631. User rank: second."

I haul myself to my feet, "Computer, who came in first?"

"User 'Wolverine' with time 12 minutes, 27 seconds and score 28,258."

It's settled, then. I'm doing this mission again on principal. I'll get 12 minutes and 26 seconds, dammit! And 30k points!

I shove open the door to the control room and grab my towel. Logan's sitting in one of the chairs, looking at me. Might just be me, but he looks a bit too smug.

"I mean this in the nicest, most sisterly way possible, but I swear to god if you say one word about being 'the best there is' I will kick you in the throat."

Instead of getting angry, he raises an eyebrow, "Competitive, are we?"

I laugh, "What gave it away?" and wipe the sweat off my face.

"Didn't think you'd be dense enough to threaten me," he smirks.

I grin, "An' I didn't think_ you'd_ be dense enough not to see it was a promise."

He gives me an exaggerated disbelieving look and changes the subject, "Hey, just for future reference, if ya wanna keep something from Chuck, it'd help if you didn't yell loud enough to hear ya in Boston."

I try to cover my offended pout with a glare. Before I can make a comeback, he continues, voice lowered just a notch, "If you wanna keep something from him, and I understand that, you hafta hide your thoughts."

I raise an eyebrow, "Howzat possible?"

"Just embed 'em in some feral junk. He either can't or won't sift through that."

That could come in handy. I smile.

But, this is wrong. We were at each other's throats only a little while ago. Why's he acting like this? Hell, why'm _I_ acting like this?

Because it feels natural. Feels like it _should_ be natural. It isn't, though, not anymore. Logan doesn't remember who I am, or even who he is! He may look like my James, but that ain't him.

"Hey, why the sudden change in heart? I mean, not long ago you were ready to bite my head off for avoiding your question, and just now I threatened you to your face and you started joking about it! "

He shrugs, "Neither of us was really keen on talking. We had some time to cool off, and I ain't in the mood fer a fight."

"I guess I'm kinda sorry for callin' you a dumbass, then," I say.

"Don't worry about it," He leans back and puts his feet up. Hope he missed the button panel. Despite his relaxed posture, I sense anxiety creeping up on him.

"Look, I uh – I wanna make this work. No more a'this hostility-"

I chuckle, "Logan, we're siblings. We're genetically hardwired to piss each other off."

No one can piss you off quite like a sibling. And that's a fact.


End file.
